My jaws were tired
of that barren work, and I let them rest. I simply gave up. A brown
orange-peel, too, I had found in the street, and which I had at once
commenced to chew, had given me nausea. I was ill--the veins swelled up
bluely on my wrists. What was it I had really sought after? Run about the
whole live-long day for a shilling, that would but keep life in me for a
few hours longer. Considering all, was it not a matter of indifference if
the inevitable took place one day earlier or one day later? If I had
conducted myself like an ordinary being I should have gone home long ago,
and laid myself down to rest, and given in. My mind was clear for a
moment. Now I was to die. It was in the time of the fall, and all things
were hushed to sleep. I had tried every means, exhausted every resource of
which I knew. I fondled this thought sentimentally, and each time I still
hoped for a possible succour I whispered repudiatingly: "You fool, you
have already begun to die."
I ought to write a couple of letters, make all ready--prepare myself. I
would wash myself carefully and tidy my bed nicely. I would lay my head
upon the sheets of white paper, the cleanest things I had left, and the
green blanket. I ... The green blanket! Like a shot I was wide awake. The
blood mounted to my head, and I got violent palpitation of the heart. I
arise from the seat, and start to walk. Life stirs again in all my fibres,
and time after time I repeat disconnectedly, "The green blanket--the green
blanket.
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